


Mamie

by YeocheonRoyalty



Category: nonfandom
Genre: F/M, I am so sorry again I’m bad at tags, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Kidnapping, Read at Your Own Risk, Really explicit shit, and a whole bunch of other terrible shit, this was a story only for me to read but I changed my mind
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-22
Updated: 2019-05-22
Packaged: 2020-03-09 12:57:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18917500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YeocheonRoyalty/pseuds/YeocheonRoyalty
Summary: Mamie Lincoln, the pretty granddaughter of former president Abraham Lincoln, is kidnapped and auctioned as a sex slave. Actor John Wilkes Booth “wins” her. Modern AU, set in this time. to the Lincolns, I’m so incredibly sorrrrry.





	Mamie

You are still groggy as you are led onto the catwalk. Bright lights shine in your eyes, leaving the audience shrouded in darkness. You shade your eyes and blink, revealing a sea of male faces leering up at you.  
You’re cold. They’ve dressed you in a sheer chiffon tunic that clings to your body and provides no warmth. Conscious of the effect of your erect nipples poking through the diaphanous fabric, you raise an arm to cover your chest. A man beside you quickly grabs your wrist and pulls it back down to your side. You look at him fearfully. He’s bald, broad and powerful, his muscles barely contained under his Italian suit. You decide not to antagonize him.  
This is bad, very bad. It’s hard to think of a positive way to spin the fact that you’ve been abducted from the street, drugged, stripped and washed, then thrown in front of a crowd of evil men. You suppose it’s possible you’re just on America’s Next Top Model, but you doubt it.  
There’s a slender man in a tuxedo. He speaks into a microphone with the smooth tones of a used-car salesman.  
“Okay gentlemen, as you can see, we’ve saved the best till last.” He consults his clipboard. “It says here her name’s Mamie Lincoln, but if you are the winning bidder you can call her whatever you like!”  
You tremble as your worst fear is confirmed. They mean to sell you at auction! Your mind races, wondering what your new owner will expect of you.  
“Beautiful, isn’t she? Do a little spin for us, darling.”  
You hesitate, partly out of defiance, but mostly because you are not yet recovered enough to think clearly. You can still feel the needle sting in your bicep where they injected you. The immediate effect of the cocktail of drugs was to render you unconscious, but the lingering effect seems to be one of ensuring your compliance, or at least suppressing resistance.  
Impatient, the brute beside you grabs your shoulders and twists you around so that your back is to the audience. Then you feel the skirt of your tunic lifted, exposing your bare ass for all to see. There are appreciative murmurs from the crowd. The auctioneer steps over and gives you a sharp smack on your left buttock, causing you to jump. There’s laughter, but with a sinister undertone.  
“Nice huh?” he asks. “Imagine that ass jiggling as you give it to her from behind! Remember, we supply you with enough drugs to keep her willing. Of course, you don’t need to use them if you enjoy a challenge…”  
Oh shit. You’re going to be a sex slave. Hopefully this means you won’t have to vacuum and clean toilets, but still, there’s an obvious downside here.  
“Five thousand!” shouts out someone eagerly.  
The auctioneer shakes his head. “Turn her around again, Ivan,” he instructs your guard.  
You are roughly twisted to face the crowd again, your eyes downcast, feeling a blush on your face. The auctioneer runs his fingertips down your cheek and neck and you turn your head away from him in revulsion. His fingers trace lower, then he gently cups your breast. “Look at her. She’s something special, this one. Starting bids at twenty thousand, I’m afraid. You know she’ll be worth it!”  
“Twenty thousand!”  
He grins and steps back from you, but not before giving your tit a firm squeeze. “And we’re off, gentlemen! Do I hear higher?”  
“Twenty-five!”  
“Thirty!”  
You seem to have stimulated quite the bidding frenzy. It’s flattering if you think about it. As the bids climb higher and higher you look around the room nervously, trying to identify your potential owners. You hope at least that the winner is good looking.  
“Fifty thousand!” shouts someone, and there’s a loud cheer from around the room. The bidding stops.  
“Ah yes,” says the auctioneer. “We’ve reached that magic number. Ivan, if you please…”  
Your brutish guard grins and moves behind you as you look around in confusion. You quickly discover what he intends to do. His arms wrap around you and his hands grip each side of the plunging V-neck of your tunic. You start to struggle but he acts quickly, tearing the delicate garment apart at the front. He tugs the scraps free and tosses them aside, leaving you completely naked. Your hand moves to cover your mound, but Ivan quickly pulls it away.  
There’s a hush as the assembled men inspect every inch of your exposed flesh and you feel goose-bumps rising over your entire body.  
The auctioneer walks up to you and attempts to slip his hand between your legs. You recoil.  
“Hold her, Ivan,” he says calmly. Your wriggle as your elbows are drawn behind your back and the big Russian holds you firmly in place. Again the auctioneer forces his hand between your legs. You feel his fingers prying your delicate folds apart as he rubs back and forth.  
“She’s wet already!” he announces.  
It’s a lie.  
You are powerless as he molests you and you blush furiously in humiliation. You are horrified to sense your clitoris hardening in involuntary response to the stimulation, and when you feel a fingertip enter you, you gasp. He leans in to whisper into your ear, but he’s holding the microphone so that everyone can hear. “Oh, yes, there’s no problem getting you in the mood, eh Mamie? She’s a horny little slut, this one. Oh yes, gentlemen, she’s wet and ready alright!”  
It’s no longer a lie.  
“Sixty thousand!”  
“Seventy!”  
“Seventy five!”  
The bidding increments get smaller despite the auctioneer’s best efforts, until finally the room appears to have settled on your true worth.  
“No advance on ninety-three, gentlemen? Still a bargain in my opinion. No? Going once at ninety three, going twice…”  
Your eyes seek out the winning bidder. His friends are patting him on the back. He’s a disgusting specimen, rat-featured with greasy hair. Your heart sinks and you feel sick.  
“One hundred thousand!” shouts a new voice.  
Saved at the last second! You try to locate the new bidder, as does everyone else in the room. His voice sounds familiar — very familiar.  
“A new record!” cries the auctioneer in delight. “One hundred thousand! This gentleman clearly knows a quality piece of ass when he sees it! Anyone else? Any advance on a hundred thousand?”  
The losing bidder looks for a moment like he might consider it, but then turns around and walks out in disgust. There are no other takers.  
“Going three times… Sold! You won’t be disappointed sir, you won’t be disappointed!” The auctioneer sniffs your juices on his finger and gives your new owner a wink. “Come forward sir, and sample your winnings!”  
A man in a hoodie pushes his way through the crowd, then starts climbing the steps to the catwalk. There’s a spotlight behind him, so his face is shrouded in darkness. You squint, trying to make out his features. Then he steps up to you and pulls the hood back.  
You gasp and smile in relief. Incredibly, it’s John Wilkes. John Wilkes Booth. He’s not one of them. He’s here to rescue you!  
He frowns and shakes his head slightly, and you take it as a signal to play along. These are dangerous men. You quickly understand that if they think something’s not right, there could be trouble. Your smile abruptly fades and you hope nobody noticed it.  
The auctioneer did notice, however. “Well, gentlemen, she seems to like the look of her new owner. Maybe you won’t be needing those drugs, eh sir?”  
John Wilkes ignores him. Instead he circles you, pretending to inspect the merchandise. “Don’t worry, Mamie, you’ll be out of here soon,” he whispers.  
Your heart is pounding and you are overwhelmed by a rush of warm feelings for this man. You have so many questions. How did he find you? Where did he get the money? You bite your tongue, knowing that the answers will have to wait.  
“We’ve debited your account, sir. Perhaps you’d like to try her out?” suggests the auctioneer.  
“I’ll take this one to go,” replies John Wilkes.  
The room goes quiet.  
“I said, perhaps you’d like to try her out,” repeats the auctioneer firmly.  
“And I said, I’ll be taking her now.”  
There’s an angry murmur. Ivan straightens up, becoming even more imposing, if that were actually possible. The auctioneer moves closer. “Sir, you came late. Perhaps you are unfamiliar with the rules here. The losing bidders have earned a show. You’ll take her for a spin, so to speak, or everyone gets to have a turn.”  
Your stomach lurches. The prospect of being raped by this entire room of men is horrific. You look at John Wilkes in panic.  
You can see in his eyes that he knows you’re both in trouble. His eyes dart around the room, perhaps gauging whether it’s possible to run for it, but you know that’s not on the cards.  
He leans in and whispers, “Perhaps they’d be happy with just a blowjob?”  
You’re faced with a choice between giving John Wilkes Booth a blowjob, or getting used by over a hundred strangers. It’s pretty clear which is the most attractive option.  
You nod your assent, biting your lip.  
“I’ll just pretend to cum in your mouth, and you can pretend to swallow. Then we can go, okay?”  
“Okay,” you whisper. Actually, you’re so happy to see him that you’d gladly suck him off and swallow for real.  
John Wilkes places his hands on your shoulders and pushes you down to your knees in front of him. The auctioneer grins, and Ivan looks disappointed, but they back off. There’s a smattering of applause from the crowd.  
You stare at John Wilkes’s crotch as he unbuckles his belt, then unfastens his pants. They drop down around his ankles, revealing a pair of silk boxers. He hooks his thumbs in the waistband, then hesitates. Is he worried about performing in front of an audience? Or is he concerned about how this will affect you?  
You need him to know that you’re going to be okay, so you decide to give him a hand. You reach out and tug his boxers down for him, revealing the cock and balls of your dreams in all their circumsized, smooth-shaven glory. You note that he’s semi-erect. Could this situation be a turn-on for him?  
Let’s get this over with. You take John Wilkes’s cock in your hand, feeling the silky skin in your grasp. It’s soft but it won’t be for long — you can feel it pulse in your palm. You gently stroke him back and forth, feeling him grow slightly with every pump. Soon he’s big enough to suck — not fully erect, but thick and much less bendable than when you started.  
You open your mouth and suck his knob inside, your lips sealing around the shaft. You feel him slide over your tongue as you take him deeper. Since he’s not yet at full length you are able to go down all the way, until your face his pressed against his bald pubis. You inhale, breathing his manly scent, and find yourself feeling a little giddy. His cock twitches twice and swells in your mouth as you hold yourself there. Then you pull back, until you feel his knob on your tongue again, and you taste the saltiness of his leaking pre-cum.  
The auctioneer makes his unwanted presence felt. “My, my, look at that little slut go! She knows what she wants, alright. Some women are born to be fuck slaves, sir, and it looks like Mamie here is one of them!”  
John Wilkes places his hand on the back of your head, entwining his fingers in your hair, and pulls you down on him again. His cock is throbbing and swelling rapidly now, filling your mouth and extending towards the back of your throat. He guides you up and down, moaning gently, while your tongue slithers around his shaft and tickles his knob on the outstroke. You know this is unnecessary for the show, but you want to give him pleasure.  
His hips thrust involuntarily and you almost choke. He’s full-size now and getting difficult to accommodate. You shift position slightly, pulling down on his dick as you try to give him a straighter pathway down your throat. His next thrust goes deeper, and you swallow, your throat contracting around his knob, while staring up at him with wide eyes.  
“Oh Jesus, Mamie…” he whispers, and he thrusts again, plunging deep, until once again your nose is pressed up against him. You slide your hands up the back of his thighs and grab his muscular ass cheeks, digging your nails into the tensed-up flesh, and he shudders, holding you there, your hair bunched-up in his fist.  
John Wilkes is considerate enough not to prolong this too much. He pulls your head back by your hair and you gasp as he withdraws his cock from your mouth. It remains connected by a thick string of saliva and precum, which drops down your chin and neck when it breaks.  
There are cheers and catcalls from the audience. You are surprised to find yourself emboldened by this, rather than humiliated. The sight, smell and taste of him has turned you on so much that your pussy is practically dripping. Feeling safe in the belief that he’ll get you to safety soon, you realize that you’d be prepared to do almost anything with him right now. You take him into your mouth again.  
You’ve abandoned yourself to lust and you’re now blowing him with the full intent of getting him off — sucking and slurping his rock-hard length while grabbing at his ass, practically forcing him to fuck your mouth.  
He’s confused. “Wait, Mamie, I’m almost… if you’re not careful I’ll…” he whispers, looking down into your lust-filled eyes.  
You don’t care. You want your rescuer’s cum in your mouth. You don’t care if he thinks you’re the world’s biggest cum-slut. You don’t care that you’ve both been forced into this situation. You don’t care who’s watching. You just want to give John Wilkes his reward.  
In another twenty seconds that’s what might’ve happened. But you dimly become aware of a chanting from the crowd. A chanting that’s getting louder and louder. It tells you that you’re not going to get to control how this ends.  
“Fuck her! Fuck her! Fuck her!”  
It’s obvious what the crowd wants. These men all want to see you get fucked. You no longer feel confident that giving John Wilkes Booth a mere blowjob will keep them at bay. Again, you consider the prospect of being gang-banged by a hundred strangers. If you’re completely honest, the idea is growing on you — but that’s only because you’re so horny now that you can’t think straight.  
You pull yourself off John Wilkes’s cock, leaving it jutting out in front of him — shiny, swollen, reddened and primed to explode. Then you give him a look that says you’re up for anything. And just in case the look was too ambiguous, you mouth the words, “Do it.”  
Was that a smile you saw flash across his face? You can’t be sure, because right now his expression has turned deadly serious.  
“Fuck her!”  
“Fuck that slut!”  
“Wreck that bitch!”  
The scattered suggestions from the audience galvanize John Wilkes into action. He quickly steps around you, leaving you facing the end of the catwalk, staring into the eager faces of the men in the front row. Then he pushes you from behind and you fall forward onto hands and knees.  
Your heart is pounding as you feel John Wilkes grasp your hips. You spread your knees apart and lower yourself onto your elbows, thrusting your ass up at him. This is his first clear look at your pussy and he won’t be able to miss how wet and ready you are.  
You feel him rubbing his knob up and down the length of your slit, coating it with your wetness, before he settles at your entrance, practically gaping for him. Then he thrusts forward. Hard.  
His hips slap against your buttocks almost instantly, forcing you forward. You’re not loose, and he’s not small, but your soaking pussy offers almost no resistance. You delight in the sensation of your tunnel stretching to accommodate his girth, and your face betrays you.  
“Bitch loves it!” shouts a man barely six feet from your face.  
He’s right. You’ve fantasized about John Wilkes Booth before but you never imagined that your darkest dreams would ever come true. Yet here you are, on knees and elbows like a bitch in heat, while he fucks you from behind to the cheers of a voyeuristic crowd.  
John Wilkes’s hands are gripping you tight, his fingers digging into the flesh of your hips. He’s taking you with his full length, his thrusts deep and urgent. You look up and meet the eyes of the man in front of you. He stares back, never dropping his gaze, and he moves his hand to his lap. As you stare at this stranger he starts squeezing his cock through his pants. You become intensely aware of how every man in this room wishes they were the one balls-deep in your pussy. But there are rules, even here. John Wilkes has bought you, fair and square, and you belong to him only.  
You hear a low moaning that rises in pitch and volume until it becomes a scream of pleasure, and you realize it’s coming from you. You bite your fist, not wanting these men to know how completely you’ve succumbed, but your orgasm is writ large for all to see. Your body convulses and your pussy twitches around John Wilkes’s meaty shaft.  
Then John Wilkes makes a move that takes you by surprise. Grabbing you by your elbows, he leans back and pulls you upright against him, his cock still buried inside. With your back arched and your breasts thrust forward you resemble a lewd figurehead on the prow of a pirate ship, and as your orgasm continues you’re sailing the waves of warmest, wettest ocean imaginable.  
He wraps his arms around you and holds you tight, one hand on your belly, the other gripping a breast, and your senses fill with the scent of his aftershave as he bites and kisses your neck.  
You turn to face him, feeling a sense of loss as his cock is pulled free of your pussy. Dimly aware of cheering from the crowd, you embrace, kissing each other deeply and passionately. You run your hands up under his shirt and over his muscular back, feeling the strength of the gorgeous man who came to rescue you. And pressed against your tummy is the thick, rigid length of his sex, engorged with his lust for you. His unspent lust.  
“Now let’s get you out of here-” he begins, but you put your finger to his lips. He deserves his release. Fuck, you deserve it too. You push him hard on the chest and he overbalances backwards, falling onto his elbows. As he straightens his legs out, you climb on top of him, straddling his hips.  
“Mamie, what are you doing?” he pants.  
Wordlessly you grip his veiny shaft in your fist and guide it to your entrance. You sink down on it with all your weight, taking every inch, until your ass is pressed against his upper thighs. The crowd goes wild as you start grinding on him, twisting your pelvis in tight circles, rubbing your clit against his bald pubis.  
John Wilkes lies back and lets you do all the work. You lean forward and pull his shirt up over his chest, then place your hands there, feeling his muscles under his skin and the frantic rise and fall of his rapid breathing. Your ass bounces, slapping against him hard, and he reaches up to cup your breasts in his hands.  
John Wilkes was on the brink of cumming before, so he doesn’t last long. You watch his face, delighting in that look of semi-surprise when he finds himself tipping on the edge of release.  
You fall forward onto him as he cums, your tits mashing against him as you kiss, panting into each other’s mouths. This gives that pervert in the front row a perfect view of your pussy lips stretched around his pulsing rod, leaking semen down onto his smooth-shaven balls as his hips jerk and your ass squirms.  
You lie entwined together for a moment, but the hooting and foot-stamping from the audience intrudes on what should be a private moment. So you both stagger to your feet and John Wilkes leaves you to stand there, red-faced but defiant, as he pulls his pants back on.  
The auctioneer approaches, grinning widely. “Sir, you have yourself a bargain there! It’s rare we see a girl embrace her new role with such,” he pauses, searching for the right word, “enthusiasm. She’s cheap at twice the price. You know, if you’d like to make some of your money back, there are some other gentlemen here who would pay handsomely for a turn with your new slave. What do you say to that, sir?”  
You gasp in shock at the audacity of the request and look at John Wilkes in desperation. But you needn’t fear. He hasn’t risked everything to save you tonight, only to rent your body out again.  
“I’m not sharing this slut with anyone,” is his firm response.  
“I understand completely sir. Enjoy your purchase!” With a sweeping bow, the auctioneer gestures to the doorway at the back of the room.  
John Wilkes Booth wraps you in his hoodie and leads you out through the crowd, which mercifully parts to let you through. You exit into a dirty alley. It’s night outside and the wind is chill, particularly on your exposed thighs where his semen is still wet.  
His car is at the end of the alley. Your saviour bundles you into the passenger seat then slides in behind the wheel. He guns the engine and, with a screech of tyres, you’re free.  
For a while you just watch his face, illuminated in flashes by streetlights and the headlamps of oncoming cars. He’s a beautiful man. Before he was just a sexual fantasy, but after tonight you practically worship him.  
Eventually he turns to you, reaching over to pull aside a hair that has stuck to your forehead.  
“So, uh…” he begins awkwardly. “I, uh, I guess we’d better work out some kind of repayment plan.”


End file.
